by Frank Payton
I concealed my rising anger. “Very well, I will tell you of my plan,” I said, “And you may judge for yourself as to its likelihood of success. It is my feeling that our main thrust should be made at Briona, although in one sense it will be a feint. I sent Marco there yesterday to look over the place. The village itself is not large, but with its surrounding land is a fief held of Bernabo Visconti by Conrad Landau. From what Marco has told me, it is a pleasant country estate to which the Count can retire from time to time when not in arms in the field.”
“I believe there is a castle,” said Albrecht. “Is it strongly held and fortified, Master Bandini?” His keen glance rested on Marco.
“It appears to be quite strong, but as I have told Sir John, I calculate that there are only about forty men at the most in the garrison, though the place could hold many more at at need. In addition, the streams give it some protection.”
Albrecht nodded. “You are a very careful young man, Marco. You do not make too much of the castle, but then you do not underestimate the problems facing an attacking force.”
He turned his attention back to me. “So, Jack, we have some slight knowledge of Briona. It should not be difficult to take the place. How do you propose to entice Landau into your trap?”
“We shall approach,” I said. “Once there, we shall sack the village and take the castle. As Marco has suggested to me, two hundred men will be enough, and that number is all we shall use. The main body will be kept out of sight. It is certain that the garrison, after making a token resistance, will sue for a stop to the fighting. We shall offer to let them ride out under a flag of truce, with all their weapons, to return to Milan.
We will prick them forward, with patrols to help them well on their way. Then our main force will swing in behind and follow at a good distance.” I paused.
“I begin to see your strategy,” said Albrecht. “Go on, please.”
“Behind our patrols we will send forward, say, a thousand mounted men-at-arms and mounted archers. These will appear to Landau to be his enemy, for I am certain that he will not be able to resist the chance to beat us in open battle.”
Albrecht followed this well. “Presumably our forward force will then fall back before his advance, and lead him on until he suddenly faces our total strength well set in a prepared position. He must come on, since to withdraw would lead to a rout. Am I correct?”
“You are right, and that is my plan, old friend,” I said, and picked up my wine cup and drained it of its contents. “With God’s help we shall win the day.”
Our eyes met, and Albrecht allowed himself another slow smile. “Yes,” he said in his careful way, “I think we shall.” He began to rise from his chair to say farewell, but I forestalled him.
“There is one other thing,” I said, and he sank back. “You remember what I told you after we had taken Lanzo, about Werner and Conrad?”
Albrecht looked startled. “I do, but surely that book is closed? They have given me no real reason for our suspicions to be aroused since that time.”
“Have they not? Albrecht, how many men have you lost from amongst your Almains on forays against Landau? How many have not returned? How many wounded have you seen return? I ask this because we have lost above two hundred dead, and near enough the same number have returned wounded in some way. Luckily, most of these have recovered and are now fit to ride and fight. This has been told to me by my officers.” I deemed it impolitic to remind him of what John had told me of his quarrel with Werner.
I could see Albrecht’s assurance begin to waver. His face paled, and he suddenly looked haggard. He spoke quietly. “Werner has reported losses after each action, and I have seen men return swaying in the saddle, and with bloodied cloths about their heads and limbs. Do you tell me this has all been deceit, a trick to blind my eyes to desertions on the part of some hundreds of my men?”
“It has been a thought in my mind for some time now,” I said. “Since the plague struck us last winter you have been ill, not yourself. Despite Hannes’ support, things have not gone well with your command. I believe your men are being leeched away from under your nose, my old friend. Let us be realistic. Werner and Conrad cannot declare themselves to be siding with Milan, and then send armed men against Landau’s outposts. We must put an end to their treachery, at the very least drive it into the open, and deal with it harshly.”
Albrecht sat hunched in his chair, his hands covering his face. There followed a long silence. Finally, he sat up and faced me. “I agree, but how? What do you suggest?”
I sat forward. “In two days’ time, two hundred of my English will leave camp under Onsloe and Sayers,” I told him. “They will ride south, to the sack of Briona and the capture of the castle. Riders will be sent back to me here, to report their success. Upon that news, the whole Company will prepare itself to move south to carry out the next part of our plan. Only then should Werner and Conrad be acquainted with our destination.”
“And what do you expect them to do then?” said Albrecht.
“They will then have a choice of only two courses of action,” I replied. “Either they spirit their men away in the night, and haste to warn Landau that something is afoot, or they go along with us and even onto the field of battle—and then desert. I would prefer them to take the first way.”
Albrecht frowned. “Why so?”
“Because I think the first way will lose us less men, and I would be rid of them sooner rather than later. In addition, if they go with us even onto the field of battle, and then desert when we have deployed, it will cause us more upset. Worse, they might attack men who trust them.”
“Word of our long-term intentions must not be noised abroad,” said Albrecht. “I will be careful to advise only my most senior men.”
“Good. Then we are agreed,” I said. “I shall go now. It is time for the evening meal, and I grow hungry. Come, Marco, you have eaten since early morning, I know.”
So we parted, and the two of us remounted our horses and made our way back to our own camp. As we left the Almain camp to the salutes of the guard, Marco asked, “Are you now content, Sir John?”
I glanced across at him, at the knowing smile on his face. “No Marco, my lad, I am not, as it seems you well understand. We can only wait now, keep our wits sharp and our eyes open, and see how matters fall out.”
We arrived at my pavilion as the tempting smells of roasting meat had begun to spread from the cooks’ quarters. There was a blaze of light from dozens of wax candles, which was given back from the silver wine jugs, platters and cups set along the table. Huw and the cook’s boys were busily bringing our food to the table My hunger increased with the sight of it all, and I admitted as much to Marco. He laughed.
“I agree, Sir John. I feel now as though I have not eaten for a week.”
It was not long before the usual crowd of my lieutenants and other senior men began to flood in. Soon there was a buzz of talk and laughter, as the cares of the day began to recede with the first cup of wine. I took my place at the head of the table—the general signal for the meal to begin. John Brise was on my right, with Jack Onsloe to my left.
“How has it gone with Sterz?” asked John, through a mouthful of roast lamb.
“Good enough,” I replied. “I believe us to be of one mind again, which is well for us all.”
“Does he agree to your plan, then?” said Jack.
“He has agreed. There is no real alternative,” I said. “We must put an end to this campaign. We need to defeat Landau decisively to make the Visconti sue for peace.”
“So. How do we go about this?”
“Not now, Jack,” I cautioned him. “We will talk later, when all but we few here have departed. Keep Matt Sayers back, though; I need him for the first part of my plan.”
I applied myself to my food and joined in the usual soldier talk—tall tales of daring deeds against great odds, of riches won and lost, women won and lost. Some present still lamented wives and children lost, to
death or otherwise. I secretly observed Jack when this latter subject arose, but his face remained impassive.
At last the others drifted away in ones and twos, perhaps to drink elsewhere or to seek a woman in the town. I was left with John Brise, Jack Onsloe, Matt Sayers, Giles Ashurst, and Marco. The table had been cleared, and the cook’s boys sent away. Huw stood guard for us at the entrance, but I did not expect visitors so late in the evening.
Jack returned to his earlier question. “How do we go about this thing?”
“Very carefully,” I replied. “No loose tongues. I want two hundred of the best we have, and that includes fifty archers, Giles. They must prepare to leave on the morning of the day after tomorrow. Marco will guide you to the village of Briona, six or seven miles to the south. There Conrad Landau holds a castle from Bernabo Visconti.”
Sayers cut in. “How many men at the castle?”
“About forty,” said Marco. “That is my guess. It is not a large stronghold.”
“Hm!” snorted Jack in contempt. “Then what? We take the castle?”
“Yes, and no,” I replied. His eyebrows rose. “Sack the village first. Then attack the castle. Put on great show of strength, but after a spell withdraw and offer a truce.”
“A truce?” Jack’s eyebrows rose even higher. “What sort of game are we playing?”
“A deep one, I hope, Jack,” I said. “Likely as not, they’ll ask for one. After all, there’s no profit in dying for nothing, and I expect they are only there to guard the place, not fight off two hundred or more. Let them ride out with their weapons, and whatever else they want. Set them on the road to Milan.”
Jack shook his head in disbelief, but Matt said, “Do we take over the castle?”
“Sack the place, and burn anything which will burn. But more important than that, send two or three patrols after the garrison to prick them on to Milan. Marco, you and two men will return here with the news of your success.”
“What happens then?” said John Brise.
“By the time Marco returns, the whole Company will be ready to march south to Briona, Almains and all. When we arrive there, I’ll tell you where we go from there. From now on, no one leaves our camp to go into the town or anywhere else, except on patrol duties, and then only under the eye of a trusted commander. That is all I have to say for now, so get to your beds. Tomorrow will be a full day.”
I was left sitting alone, toying with the silver wine-jug. It was a fine piece which I had had a for a long time, since before Poitiers. Its design showed a battle between warrior women and beasts which were half man, half horse. I had always thought it a strange thing. Huw was snuffing out the candles, and at the last only the two before me were left. I rose and, taking one of the candles, I bade him good night and sought my own quarters.
I did not fall asleep straightway, but lay puzzling over something, I knew not what, but something that lurked in my brain and would not go away. A little wind ruffled and rattled the canvas and ropes of the pavilion over and over again.
An owl hooted nearby, and I awoke suddenly. It was still the dark of night, but at last I knew what had kept me awake.
Chapter 12
Battle Joined
I rose and broke my fast early the next morning. In the night I had become aware that the day would be more important to the success of my strategy than I had first thought. It was imperative that I speak with Albrecht without delay. To that end I had despatched Huw with a message. Albrecht returned directly with Huw, strode up to the high table and sat down opposite me.
“Good morning, John,” he began. “See, I have saved you the trouble of another journey to my camp. We will be able to speak more freely here. I shall join you at breakfast, if I may.”
“I am pleased to see you, my friend,” I said. “Huw! Bring more food, and somewhat to drink for Herr Sterz. Then guard the door please.”
We exchanged small talk until Albrecht had his food and drink before him, and Huw had gone to stand by the pavilion entrance. We ate in silence for a while longer, and then I deemed it a suitable time to say what was on my mind.
“Albrecht, what have you to occupy Werner and Conrad today, and for the next few days?” I began.
He looked up sharply. “What is in your mind? Is something wrong?”
“I was awoken in the night by the cry of an owl,” I told him. “And I thought straightway of something which had escaped me yesterday evening when we last spoke.”
“And that is?” he asked.
“Why, that Werner and Conrad and their men must be sent out of the way, preferably towards Milan, whilst my men set off for Briona. Their curiosity must not be aroused.”
“Of course. For them to see the departure would not be a good thing,” he said. “I usually send out patrols and light probing attacks, so it should not be difficult to send them off for a couple of days.”
“I will do the same,” I said. “I’ll send patrols out as if to the south, but they can turn west when out of sight and return before nightfall.”
Straightway, Albrecht left for his own camp. Later, looking across, I saw a hundred and more Almains ride out to the northeast. At their head were Werner and Conrad, behind them their pennon bearers with the fluttering strips of coloured cloth: chequey of or and sable for von Felsingen, paley of azure and rouge for Harzmann. As they passed out of my line of sight, I turned away and began my own preparations for the coming conflict.
Work had already begun and proceeded apace all that day. We kept all our efforts to arm and provision the advance party out of sight from the Almain camp, behind a screen of large tents and pavilions. Farriers worked hard, checking over the horses and re-shoeing where they deemed it necessary. Tom Steyne, the horsemaster, had picked his men carefully, and they were all good craftsmen. Similarly, the armourers under Nick Peyton laboured like demons at their forges, repairing mail and plate. Amongst Giles’ archers, bowyers and fletchers were in high demand. Sheaves of arrows were issued to each man from the store, together with spare hempen or linen strings.
Will Turton opened his food stores and issued marching rations to all, enough for several days. For their horses, every man also received a bag of grain to add to whatever grazing might be found around Briona.
At the same time, but at a slightly easier pace, similar preparations were also being made for the rest of the English half of the Company. After all, there would be perhaps three days before we would hear any news from Briona. I knew that Albrecht would be putting similar measures into effect. On his part, however, he would tell his people that it was a general exercise to keep the men up to the mark.
The evening meal that night was a much more subdued affair than before, at least at the top end of the table. Jack Onsloe and Sayers, his junior, were talking quietly throughout the meal, and it pleased me to see that they each seemed to have the measure of the other, and were confident in the others abilities. From the lower end of the table there was the occasional outbreak of laughter. Giles was his usual jesting self, his way of hiding any fears of the next battle.
The evening wore on to its close. Marco was sitting in his place near me, and I told him to remain there as the others began to drift away after the meal. The lower end went first, as some of the senior men-at-arms amongst them were going to the attack on Briona. At the last we had the place to ourselves, and I began to speak of the morrow to Marco.
“I’ve told Jack that I want everyone away by dawn,” I said. “He’ll pick two trustworthy men from his command, to accompany you on your return here. Which horse will you be riding tomorrow?”
“I’ll take La Fiamma, Sir John,” he said. “I’ll need a fast mount for this work. Need I arm myself fully?”
“No, I think not. Half armour will be enough for your mare to carry on a fast ride. I don’t want you caught up in any conflict which may take place. I need you back here in good point to report on what will have passed at Briona. I have told Jack of the the part you are to play, so he will give y
ou all the help he can.”
I picked up my near-empty wine cup and drained its contents. Marco followed suit, and we parted for the night and went our ways to bed—where I slept well, without interruption, until roused by Huw.
“Sir John, Sir John!” he called. “Marco is waiting. Master Onsloe reports that all are ready to depart for Briona.”
I dressed quickly and went out into the still-dark early morning. There was a warm smell of Spring in the air. Looking to the east, I could just make out a faint brightness in the sky. There was the remainder of a waning moon, and still a multitude of stars. Jack and Marco loomed up front of me.
“All’s well, Sir John,” said Jack. “The men are already mounted, and we can leave now.” He nodded at Marco standing by. “I’ll look after the lad. He’ll be back safe with the good news, never fear.”
“Very good, Jack,” I replied. “No more delays, then. Leave now with all my good wishes.”
I watched them as they disappeared into the twilight, and shortly afterward the whole two hundred rode past me and passed out of the camp by a temporary gate which we had broken through the defences on the southern side. As the last man rode out, the tree trunks and uprooted bushes were quickly dragged back into position by some of Will Turton’s men. I turned and went back to lie upon my pallet, until it should be time for the general call for all to awake and be about their daily duties.
*****
It was on the evening of the fourth day that Marco returned with his escort. They rode off to their own quarters, and he shouldered his way into my pavilion. I looked up to see him take off his helmet and shake it free of the rain which I had heard pattering upon the canvas roof. He shrugged off his heavy woollen cloak, from which the water also streamed, before stepping on to the wooden boards which formed the floor.
“I see that you have returned in good time for the evening meal,” I said, taunting him, “but we expected you before now.”
He laughed. “I deemed it a good time to to get here, Sir John. Will Turton’s rations were good, but not as good as the cook’s dinners. My belly cries out for hot stew, and a draught of good red wine. Where does he get the poor stuff he sent us out with?”